


Stagecoach

by Oilan



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Canon Era, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oilan/pseuds/Oilan
Summary: Never before had Enjolras been so aware of how small and close a diligence compartment could feel, with Combeferre kneeling over his lap, having reached out a hand to steady himself on the back of the seat as he rocked into Enjolras’ touch. His head brushed the carriage ceiling as he bent over Enjolras, kissing him fervently, and obviously attempting to coax him into doing something more.
Enjolras and Combeferre find privacy in an unlikely place.





	

Reading while traveling in a diligence could be a difficult endeavor even at the best of times. Between the bumps in the road, the close quarters, and the chatter of other passengers, one could be constantly distracted. Despite all of this, Enjolras could usually get along with his book perfectly well. His focus was unwavering, except in very particular circumstances—and this was most certainly one of them. What made concentrating difficult at present, as the carriage trundled past the furthest of Paris' outlying towns, was not other passengers, nor the conditions of the road, but the warm kisses Combeferre was pressing along his jawline. Enjolras took in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

It was winter, and the pair were on their way to Annonay to spend their holiday with Combeferre’s family. Bundled against the cold, they had awoken early to catch the first diligence heading that direction, and had managed to secure the smallest of the three compartments to themselves. It was rather cramped, but it was at least quiet, and Enjolras had immediately pulled out some reading he had been meaning to finish. Combeferre, too, had brought several books with him to pass the time, but had made much less progress on them.

After opening his book, Combeferre had shifted every few minutes as though he could not sit comfortably, and then, with a quiet noise of annoyance, had set his reading aside to sleep, but to no avail. Enjolras, at this point, had noticed his partner’s struggles enough to pause in his reading and glance over at him, and caught him looking back. This glance, it seemed, was taken as some sort of encouragement. Combeferre had finally inched nearer to Enjolras and for the past ten minutes at least had proved himself infinitely more distracting than any jolt of the diligence or noise from other passengers.

To his own slight surprise, Enjolras had found he was far from displeased as Combeferre pressed closer still, laying a hand at the top of his thigh. He was, however, rather more aware of their present location, of the close walls and the other passengers who were separated from them by only a curtain.

“What has gotten into you?” Enjolras asked quietly, tilting his head to expose a bit of his neck, just above the collar, and sighed as Combeferre readily took up the suggestion.

Combeferre let out a small huff of exasperation, and the little puff of air that brushed against Enjolras’ skin sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

“What has gotten into me,” whispered Combeferre between kisses, “Is that we’ve barely seen each other in _weeks_ , and- and I…“ He trailed off, reaching up to brush a lock of Enjolras’ hair behind his ear, looking a bit contrite.

It was true. This was Combeferre’s first winter as an intern at Necker, and it was turning out to be a more difficult time than either of them had anticipated. The long hours tending to patients on top of class and hospital rounds, along with political work, had rendered his free time negligible. He was also required to work around curfews now that his lodgings were at the hospital, and the fact that his patients were much more ill in the winter meant that the few times he could sneak out to Enjolras’ flat, he was exhausted and sometimes even aggrieved.

The strain of having no time alone together was certainly showing now; Enjolras' breath was already uneven, as much as he tried to compose himself. “And- and you can’t-“ He swallowed, tilting his head further, allowing Combeferre to press right up against him, still laying kisses over his neck. “You can’t wait until we get to the next post house?”

Even as he asked the question, he had his doubts. It had crossed his mind that perhaps when the carriage stopped, they could find some quiet place where they could slip away alone, but privacy was difficult to come by at post houses. There would be other travelers, most on their way to Paris from elsewhere, wandering about and anxious to continue their journey. It would be possible, perhaps, but their current stage was hours from being completed, the next posting house still many leagues away.

Their present situation nagged at Enjolras as warmth settled in the pit of his stomach, yet even now he was hard pressed not to welcome it. This sensation, that pleasurable curled tension inside of him, was an odd thing. Previously, before Combeferre, it had been a mere annoyance—an inconvenience to be ignored, or done away with as quickly as possible alone. With Combeferre, though, it had become something infinitely more enjoyable, and had they been anywhere else, Enjolras would not have hesitated in what he now wanted to do.

He bit his lip and considered, or at least considered as well as he could under the circumstances, their situation. They were a long way from the next stop, and even longer from Annonay, where they would be under the watchful eye of Combeferre’s family. Presently, they were the only ones in their compartment, and the only other people in the coach were a pair of sleepy old English ladies on holiday and the disgruntled, unsociable conductor. This carriage was, and most likely would be, their only chance at privacy in weeks. Before his companion could answer his previous query, Enjolras set aside his book and pulled Combeferre astride him.

In an instant, Combeferre lost whatever remaining composure he might have had. He ground down onto Enjolras’ lap, stifling a groan. Enjolras’ breath heaved at the sensation, but he managed to pull himself together enough to weave his fingers into Combeferre’s hair, bringing him down for a kiss to silence him. _“We must be quiet.”_

The only thing Combeferre managed in response was a muffled, distracted assent. Enjolras moved his hand from Combeferre’s hair to his cravat, picking the knot loose and unbuttoning his shirt enough to lay hot kisses across his flushed neck and chest. Panting, Combeferre arched forward and reached down to the fall of Enjolras’ trousers, but before he could do anything more Enjolras leaned back in his seat, grasping Combeferre by the hips and pushing him away slightly. Combeferre let out a little huff of impatience, which became a gasp as Enjolras brushed his fingers over the lump at the front of his trousers, stroking him slowly through the fabric.

Never before had Enjolras been so aware of how small and close a diligence compartment could feel, with Combeferre kneeling over his lap, having reached out a hand to steady himself on the back of the seat as he rocked into Enjolras’ touch. His head brushed the carriage ceiling as he bent over Enjolras, kissing him fervently, and obviously attempting to coax him into doing something more.

Enjolras slowed the movement of his hand before actually complying, pressing with the heel of his palm in such a way that drew a whimper from Combeferre, muffled against his lips. Enjolras wrapped an arm around Combeferre to steady them both and used his other hand to unbutton the fall of Combeferre’s trousers just enough to slip his fingers inside.

Impatient, Combeferre grasped the lapel of Enjolras’ frock coat, roughly tugging him forward into a deeper kiss, but all Enjolras did in response was circle the head of Combeferre’s cock with the tip of his fingers, teasing the slit at a pace he was well aware was much too slow. Combeferre bent forward to stifle a noise of frustration into the other’s collar.

Though Enjolras settled in, not planning to move forward for a long while, he could feel the warm tension inside of him becoming more urgent, heightened by the feel of Combeferre against him, trembling from Enjolras’ ministrations. He shifted a bit beneath Combeferre, hoping to relieve some of the pressure between his legs, though the occasional bump of the carriage sent a jolt through him every now and then. He was fully resolved to push his own desires aside for the time being. Whatever may have remained of Combeferre’s patience, however, was at an end.

“This-“ he panted, pressing his hips into Enjolras’ hand, desperate for more contact. “This is just _cruel._ ”

“Is it?” Enjolras slowed his movements even further. “Shall I stop?” He earned a look of mingled arousal and dismay, and smiled. “No?”

“ _No_ \- no, don’t stop.”

Enjolras might have continued teasing Combeferre but decided, at last, to take a little pity on him. He stopped his attentions just long enough to work open the last of Combeferre’s trouser buttons and pull out his cock, flushed red and warm despite the slight chill in the air.

Once again, Combeferre pushed his hips forward into Enjolras’ hand, almost pleadingly, and Enjolras assented. He curled his fingers around Combeferre’s cock, stroking at an even pace. Evidently relieved that Enjolras had let up on tormenting him, regardless of how much he had enjoyed it, Combeferre rested more of his weight against Enjolras, the carriage seat creaking under them.

Enjolras tucked his face into Combeferre’s neck, pressing warm kisses over him and listening to his breath shudder in and out as he altered his grip to run his thumb up the underside of his cock. Combeferre threaded his fingers into Enjolras’ hair, tugging his head back enough to kiss him again, and to silence his own groan. Thoroughly enjoying this reaction, Enjolras repeated the gesture and a moment later Combeferre thrust forward again and came over Enjolras’ hand, face flushed, biting his lip to ensure he did not make a sound. At last, he slumped against Enjolras to catch his breath, and let out a small laugh that sounded almost embarrassed, and which Enjolras found entirely charming.

Releasing Combeferre for a moment, Enjolras fished his handkerchief from his pocket, smiling a little. “Satisfied?” Combeferre made a quiet, tired noise of affirmation into Enjolras’ shoulder.

Now that they were at a pause, Enjolras became fully aware of how demanding the ache between his legs now was, and how tightly the front of his trousers pressed on him. Seeking to relieve both, he moved a hand down to unbutton his own fall, but Combeferre raised his head and brushed Enjolras’ hand away.

The gentleness of the kiss Enjolras now received spoke to how worn Combeferre was, but he worked open Enjolras’ trousers and drew out his cock all the same. Though he had not been touched until now, Enjolras was already fully hard, and Combeferre, noticing this, sat back slightly to regard him. As their space was limited inside the carriage, he made no sign of moving from astride Enjolras’ lap, though Enjolras found he could not regret his choice in their position. Even with Combeferre sitting back, their faces were but a hair’s breadth apart.

“I _do_ have it in my power to enact some revenge on you,” Combeferre reminded him with a small smile, as he slowly ran his fingers over the length of Enjolras’ cock. “And you would fully deserve it. But I suppose there should only be one _unmerciful_ one out of the two of us.”

He had been able to say anything at all at the moment, Enjolras would have reminded Combeferre of the countless nights they had spent together in bed, wrapped around each other, Combeferre teasing him with light touches for so long that he had felt halfway out of his mind. Perhaps something of his objections showed on his face, because Combeferre smiled a bit wider, and leaned in to kiss him again.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Again, Enjolras begged to differ, but Combeferre proved himself as good as his word this time. He gave Enjolras’ cock a firm stroke from base to tip and then back again, gripping in precisely the way to make Enjolras arch up beneath him.

Flushed, Enjolras closed his eyes and moved in time to Combeferre’s touches. The carriage seat creaked in a quiet rhythm, though he hoped that if any other noise were to escape him, it would be soft enough not to be heard. Though he tried to keep an ear pricked for any sign of suspicion or discovery from their fellow passengers, his concerns of such quickly fell away as Combeferre added a little twist to the movement of his hand. The endeavor to keep silent, too, grew ever more difficult as Combeferre gradually sped his pace, building up the warm ache inside Enjolras until it reached its peak. It was his turn, then, to stifle a noise into the crook of Combeferre’s neck, curling his fingers into his partner’s hips as he climaxed, and then came down again in a wave of exhaustion and relief.

Completely spent, and thankful they had not been discovered, Enjolras leaned back against the carriage seat and allowed Combeferre to kiss his face—over his cheeks, then forehead, and then down the bridge of his nose.

“There,” whispered Combeferre, finally ending with a last kiss to Enjolras’ lips. “ _Now_ I’m satisfied.”


End file.
